


First Contact

by Joseph_B_Bergstrom



Series: In a Mirror Dimly [1]
Category: Star Trek: Enterprise, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Short, Star Trek: Enterprise AU, Star Wars AU, Very Little Happens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-28
Updated: 2019-11-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:47:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21595612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joseph_B_Bergstrom/pseuds/Joseph_B_Bergstrom
Summary: Ever since the ill-fated Outbound Flight Project, the Republic’s been hesitant to push any further into Wild Space and the Unknown Regions. But the Senate has authorized a second exploratory initiative under the newly-formed Republican Exploratory Service. . . .Captain Dax Fonrui and the RESSPathfinderjump into a small, unassuming star system, only to make first contact with an . . .interestingbunch of natives. . . .A really short AU one-shot involving three cups of caf, garbled communications, and very little else.
Series: In a Mirror Dimly [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1561918
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	First Contact

# FIRST CONTACT

* * *

_Unknown Star System,_  
_Wild Space,  
_ _9 GS, (2150 AD)_

The RESS _Pathfinder_ flashed into existence with a shuddering flicker of light, as it finished its translation from the dimension colloquially known as ‘hyperspace.’ The energy transfer coils in the proto-plasmatic engines lit off, simultaneously radiating excess heat from the translation out of hyperspace and igniting the sublight engines.

Captain Dax Fonrui leaned back, propping his feet up on the console in front of his chair, sipping from a mug of caf. “You’ve got to hand it to the Maker,” he commented to no one in particular. “He made some pretty little star systems out here.”

A few non-committal grunts were the only responses Dax received. It was a decent enough system they’d just jumped into, but not exactly _pretty_. Pretty average, all things considered. It was certainly no Corellia.

“What’s it look like, Thim?” he asked, cradling his mug.

Thim looked up from his readouts. “Eh,” he responded. “A few gas giants, one habitable world, an asteroid belt. That’s probably the most interesting thing—the belt might be mineral-rich.”

Dax shrugged. “Natives?”

“Registering emissions from the habitable planet,” Thim responded. “In fact—” he halted, studying the scrolling lines of Aurebesh. “Quite a few _mobile_ energy signatures throughout the system—ships. Three are inbound for our orbit.” He looked up. “I think we found a fairly advanced civilization, Dax.”

Dax nodded. “Catalog it,” he ordered, gesturing with his mug for emphasis. “What name does the computer want to give ’em?”

“Uh . . . ‘Veena-Adratas.’ ”

Dax snorted. “Cett-awful name.” He took another sip of caf. “Naw, I hereby dub this system . . . Nlora.”

“Nlora?”

“It’s a nice-looking flower, I thought it’d fit a nice-looking system.” There were more than a few doubtful looks from the bridge staff. “Oh, fine. I knew a girl named Nlora. Happy?”

“Very,” Thim responded. He glanced back down at his readouts. “Those three ‘Nloran’ ships are still coming at us. Accel is pretty high.”

“How high?”

“Nearly as good as a _Consular_ -class running flat-out.”

“Huh. Must have some good compensators.” Dax sipped again, before looking at the empty bottom of his mug regretfully. “Computer done dissecting the planet’s emissions?” he asked.

“About fourteen-percent done.”

“Put the language matrixes at the top of the queue. I’d like to talk with them before they decide to take a pot-shot at us for trespassing.”

“No arguments here.” Even as Thim finished speaking, a light flashed on his console, and he blinked. “Uh. . . .”

“What?” Dax asked.

“They just broadcasted something—probably for us. Looks like . . . a language matrix.”

“Well . . . I guess they’re friendly then.”

“Looks that way.”

Dax sat up from his seat, thinking about the caf-machine in the galley. “Send ’em ours,” he ordered. “I’ll be back in a bit—I need some more thinking juice.”

“I think we could all do with some more of that.”

***

Captain A. G. Robinson, CO of the _Niven_ , sat in his command seat without letting the back touch his spine. Sitting ramrod-straight for hours on end was . . . not the most enjoyable experience, but it was better than slouching in the command seat like _Archer_ tended to.

He snorted. He wasn’t truly being fair to Archer. His friend might take a somewhat less . . . _strict_ approach to command as Robinson, but he was still a damned fine officer. He’d _better_ be a fine officer—he was taking the NX-01 out next year.

Robinson still felt an irrational pang of jealousy at the thought. The NX-01—even now, no one quite knew what the starship would be officially christened—was going to be the jewel of Starfleet, and every officer above the rank of commander wanted her for his own. But she wasn’t going to be Robinson’s. Archer had been selected to captain the fastest ship ever launched by Mankind, not Robinson, and that was all there was to it.

Besides, Robinson had the _Niven_. She wasn’t exactly _NX_ -class, but the older _Shenandoah_ -class cruiser was good enough for a once-upon-a-time hotshot test pilot. And while the NX-01 was going to be in spacedock for at least another year, the _Niven_ had been completed over thirteen years earlier.

“Our guests do anything yet?” Robinson asked, watching the view-screen mounted in the bridge carefully, as the distant alien ship grew closer. She was still 40.28 million kilometers away, but the enhanced image on the view-screen made her seem much, _much_ closer.

“Holding orbit, sir.” The tactical officer scratched at a regulation-length beard. “I don’t even think they’ve hit us with anything more than passive sensors—quite polite of them.”

Robinson chuckled, before turning to his comm officer. “How’s the Universal Translator going?” he asked.

The bridge officer grimaced at his captain’s question. “The UT is good, sir, but it _does_ need some time to let things cook.” He always got defensive about the UT. He’d gone to the Academy with the linguist who’d helped write the most recent incarnation of the software—Hoshi Sato.

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“No, I suppose not, sir,” the comm officer granted. “It’s ready, it’s just a . . . little rough, sir.”

“But we can talk with them?”

“Aye, sir—mostly.”

“How reassuring,” Robinson commented dryly. “Open a channel.”

The comm officer worked at his console. “Channel open.”

Robinson squared his shoulders, staring directly at the view-screen. “Unidentified vessel, this is Captain Robinson, commanding officer of the UES _Niven_. I have to warn you in advance that our translation software is still chewing on your language matrix—so a few words might be . . . questionable.”

He nodded to the view-screen. “Robinson clear.”

***

Dax sipped his third cup of caf, feeling comfortably wired. His metabolism was faster than most Humans’, but he was still feeling the effects of the caffeine.

“Transmission from the Nlorans.”

He perked up. Their own computers were still chugging away, trying to digest the Nloran language. At best, they had deciphered a third of it. He raised his eyebrows. “Really?” he asked rhetorically. “That was fast.”

“I guess we can chalk up more efficient computers alongside their more efficient inertial compensators,” Thim commented.

“I guess so.” Dax straightened himself in his chair. He wore civilian clothes, in keeping with the civilian nature of his job, but he still straightened his gray tunic to look a _little_ more presentable. “Put them on.”

The holo-emitter on the bridge flickered to life, as a two-dimensional image of a seated humanoid man grew to life-sized proportions.

“ _Unknown cup, this is Officer Robinchild, commanding officer of the UES_ Niven _. I must to warn you in beginning that our speaking soft-clothes is still chewing on your speech cast—so a few ideas might be . . . objectionable.”_

The man nodded in the direction of the pickups. _“Robin_ _child_ _transparent_ _.”_ The humanoid’s image froze, as the transmission reached its end.

“I think we can safely take their ‘more efficient computers’ off the list of Things They Do Better,” Dax said, once he and the bridge crew had finished chuckling at the . . . _interesting_ phrasing of the transmission. “How’s our own translation going?”

“Well, our computers are dissecting their transmission—taking into account that they probably screwed up on half of the words—and we’re cooking along just fine. Probably good enough right now to send an equally or slightly-less screwed up message.”

“It’d be polite,” Dax said. “After all, they said something—we should say something back.” He nodded firmly. “Begin recording.”

“Recording.”

“ _Niven_ , we are in receipt of your message, and are under the impression that not all of your word choices came through just right. Nonetheless, we extend the peaceful greetings of the Galactic Republic, and heartily hope that this message comes through at least somewhat accurately.

“I am Captain Fonrui, master after the Maker of the RESS _Pathfinder_ , and I am honored to make your acquaintance, Officer Robinchild.”

He smiled, hoping it held the same—or, at least, _similar—_ meaning to the Nlorans. “Fonrui out.”

***

“Niven _, we are inside understanding of your air-song, and are underneath the belief that not all mouth-noise choices came through just starboard. None-of-little, we thrust the war-less greet of the Universe Nation, and heart-filled hope that this air-song passes between at less some-who right._

“ _I am Captain Fonrui, god after the Architect of th_ _e RESS_ Wayseeker _, and am honorable_ _to make your acquaintance, Officer Robinchild._

“ _Fonrui beyond.”_

A. G. Robinson blinked at the message they’d just received. The distances involved meant that the messages took just over a hundred and forty seconds to be transmitted or received. Once the distances dropped to a more manageable level of lightspeed-lag, Robinson had a suspicion that their conversations were going to be very . . . _interesting_.

“I think,” he said to no one in particular, “we’d better wait until the UT’s done chewing on their language.” He chuckled. “’Cause, I have some doubts that this Captain Fonrui is a god.”

“Well, sir, you never know with first contact.”

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this was just a short little idea that happened to strike my fancy. I figured I'd make it a one-shot, since I'm already in the middle of working on the _Crossroads Trilogy_ , but I think this little premise could be expanded quite a lot.
> 
> If there are enough (hah, who am I kidding? If I get _any_ , I’ll be surprised) kudos and comments for this, I’ll see about expanding this dreadfully short drabble into a proper story. So, if you’d like to see Archer and crew, as well as the whole United Earth and her allies (and enemies,) running around the Clone Wars-era galaxy, let me know.
> 
> P.S. _Happy Thanksgiving, folks!_


End file.
